


Once Upon A Time in the 1800s

by Mentathial



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mentathial/pseuds/Mentathial
Summary: Isabelle French fell in love with Richard Gold, the scary pawn-broker of Storybrooke. Except the Evil Queen, could not stand her mentor being happy and decided to change her curse to separate the two. True Love's Kiss can break any curse.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Kudos: 4





	Once Upon A Time in the 1800s

Isabelle Clare was your every-day 21st-century girl. With stars in her eyes, she spent hours writing poetry and had small group of friends who loved to listen to her rant about the troubles of being a senior in college, studying Victorian and Regency Literature online. How she yearned to leave their sleepy town and study in college for real. Except, her Mother needed her.  
“My job in the bookstore pays enough that coupled with my scholarships, I do not have to drop out of college…and I did publish my first book “Her Lost Love” but the job market for Victorian Literature is just stunted. It seems no one wants to read Regency Romance anymore!”  
Her book held a place of honour in the Storybrooke library where she worked but she never really heard back from her publishers.  
Apart from being a chronic complainer, she was also a woman rights activist and a day-dreamer. Or your everyday 21st century English major with loft ideas of romance and life. Little did she know, her entire life was about to change.  
“Miss French?”  
Sitting in front of the fortune-teller Belle wondered what she was doing here. She was a logical woman; she knew fortune-telling and magic were only applicable to fantasies. And yet…something pulled her to this woman, dressed, unlike any fortune teller she had ever met. The woman in front of her, a Miss Drakon, was dressed in a pink pant-suit, her hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. There were canvases in the back of the shop, Belle realized. The woman was a painter.  
“You are an artist?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you believe in destiny because?” Slapping a hand on her mouth, Belle regretted her question. How insensitive had she become!  
“To boost my sales of course!” Miss Drakon answered with a laugh.  
“What?”  
“Look, Miss Clare, your destiny is determined by the planets you were born into…but they just determine the various ways your life can go. Which of those ways you take is in your hands. Yet…yours…yours is a unique destiny.”  
“How?” Despite herself, the brunette was intrigued.  
“Your destiny is adrift…you are destined for greatness should you choose it my girl. Yet, you could also be stuck in a world so alien because you let fears control you…it’s all in your hands.”  
More than a little confused, Belle, left the room and headed towards the library. Some Keats would alleviate any anxiety the encounter had given her.  
“Miss French?” Looking up from the copy of “Lyrical Ballads” she was consuming, Belle noticed Mr Gold. A thin lean man that was the "town monster" yet a good friend of hers. Being a patron of the library, she had discovered the love of art and antiques the scary man had. He still turned up on the first of every month to collect rent but usually, he stayed to share tidbits about her latest read. They had spent hours together, reading poetry, and critiquing Bells’ work. Richard, she learnt was a lover of History and Literature, specifically studying the impact of politics on poetry and prose. As time passed, the two had grown closer, and the poems they read to one another went from “Daffodils” to “A Red Red Rose.” For someone who had always held romance sacred, this was a beautiful experience…yet like all beautiful experiences, it was meant to end.  
The night her life changed, was also the first time Belle kissed Richard. It was a sweet thing and they had both blushed afterwards, before returning to the work of Austen they were reading. No words were needed yet…Belle could not stop herself. Was it too early? Would she scare him away?  
“Richard?” Her voice was soft.  
“Yes, Belle?”  
“I love you.”  
Her reply was a passionate kiss, interrupted by several declarations of “I love you too.” The copy of Sense and Sensibility lay on the table, as the two enjoyed being together in ways they had never experienced before, ultimately falling asleep in each other’s arms. Neither knew what was in store for them…  
As they danced around each other, eating hamburgers over discussions of Science Fiction and Mary Shelly, they caught a certain Mayor's eye. Angry as she was that her prisoner had escaped in the course of the curse, her ire at seeing her mentor experience love again while her heart bled out on a void could not be measured. Using her last bit of magic, she decided to shake the world. History was a fun thing.  
Belle awoke in a strange room. Looking down she saw she was wearing a…was that a ball gown? What was going on here? An Empire silhouette…a Regency gown?  
“Lady Isabelle? Lady Isabelle?”  
A woman wearing the dress of a handmaiden entered the room.  
“My lady your Mother awaits! The ball starts in an hour! We have to leave now.”  
Confused yet intrigued, Belle gestured to the servant to leave. What should she do? Finding a small knife in one of the many drawers, she somehow hid it in the folds of her dress. Who knew drama school would actually help her someday. Picking up a jacket, she ran down the stairs, the multiple layers of clothing not hindering her mobility at all.  
“Quick! The Prince of Wales might appear at this ball!”  
An old woman, who funnily enough resembled the pictures of her late mother Belle had seen growing up, told Belle. Even more confused and emotional, she blindly followed her into a carriage. Looking out, she felt she had stepped into an Austen novel. What was going on here?  
“Mother?” She asked hesitantly.  
“Yes, Isabelle?”  
“Where are we going?”  
“Oh, that memory of yours! It’s a ball, Isabelle! A ball where most of the eligible bachelors of London will be present. It’s the perfect opportunity to choose a husband for you! I keep telling you to step out of fantasy and into the real world child! All that poetry will not help you unless you have a husband. Mind my words!”  
“Marriage?” That squeaky voice definitely did not belong to me, Belle thought.  
“Yes! Marriage. The thing young women do to secure their fortunes! Have you no care for your ailing father, child? What happens once he passes away? His estates? Who will they go to if you are unmarried, a spinster! You are running out of time Isabelle,” the woman’s voice dropped as she placed a hand on Belle’s head, careful not to mess the hairdo. How had it stayed though her sleeping?  
“You are already twenty-two, child. How much longer can you wait?”  
“But Mother, I am not ready for the responsibilities of a household! I want to write,” Belle answered. Where had that come from?  
“Isabelle, you know women who write…you know what society thinks of them…my child it pains me you wish to put yourself through that…no one will marry you, mark my words!”  
Turning away, the woman pulled out a lace handkerchief and began to dab under her eyes.  
“Well then, I will die a spinster rather than give up my dreams!”  
“Hush, child! I have had enough of your insolence.”  
“Cousin Gabe will take great care of the estates, Mother. I am sure of it.” Belle felt she had had this argument a million times now. Why didn’t Mother understand. She did not want to marry for convenience! Her family wasn’t one where they would throw them to the dogs…Cousin Gabe was a lovely young man with a brain for science. He would be an excellent manager for the estate. But of course not, Mother could not think beyond the social repercussions of an unwed daughter…even worse…a writer.  
“It is futile to speak to you!”  
“Why because I choose happiness?”  
“You do not understand! The Storybrooke Society will give you no peace! You will not be invited anywhere, people will gossip about you, cads will look at you for a night of pleasure! You will be an unhappy child.”  
“Oh, Mother. Nothing of that sort will happen, I promise you.”  
“Promise me this. You’ll at least try and find someone Isabelle. I fear what will happen to you once I am gone…”  
“Oh, Mother! Fine, I will look,” giving in Isabelle turned her face to the window, cursing the society she was born in. If only women could inherit property.  
Something nagged at the back of Isabelle’s mind at that thought. It was like a memory of a young woman signing inheritance papers. What fantasy! Their world wasn’t ready for that. Shaking the thought away, she returned to watching the city run past.  
Somewhere an old woman cackled. Belle would get no happiness while she lived. She knew even Isabelle French would not be able to find her true love in Regency London, much less get a kiss and break their curse.


End file.
